LUPUS IS LIVING WITH ME & I'M LIVING LIFE!!
Take a journey into my universe.
Partake in the unveiling of my deepest, darkest and intimate realities.
Experience my struggles with life and my battle against lupus.
Explore with me in my quest to discover happiness in my own utopia.

My family

Embrace Today By: K. Wilhelmina Floria

Saturday, October 9, 2010

Crack addiction and Lupus become a reality

I had a good night last night. Sleep pretty good, once I went to sleep. I took 1 mg of Lorazpam. Up early checked the emails, FB. Didn't go to twitter yet, not sure if I really like it yet. I have a busy week coming up. Monday my daughter needs me to stay with the kids because of holiday. No problem I haven't seen them since last month. Wednesday I go for the Echo in the morning and that evening I go to another Lupus Seminar. Then Thursday I met my new Rhuemotologist. Still didn't get the bill for my medical records. I'm going to have to find time to go there and find out what's going on.

Still didn't get reimbursement check. I called Access-A- Ride and the woman in the reimbursement department was nasty as hell. They say you should receive your check in 4 to 6 weeks it's been 9. My mate sent receipts after me and she received her check. I should of spoke to her supervisor, but I'm trying not to be a bitch. I guess the woman who took my call is mad that she has a job during these difficult times. Damn she was nasty, when I questioned her about dates she didn't mention she said, "this is the last time I'm going to tell you." What kind of shit is that for a professional dealing with persons with disabilities. Okay I'm taking a deep breaths and exhaling.

I often get disappointed when I deal with people who work with the public and have such nasty attitude, when it's not warranted. She should loss her job for being nasty and get a job in a dark cubical in the back with no phone and no interaction with the public. She should enjoy that kind of job better, this way she can beat up on herself.

I always subscribe to the theory that you treat people the way you want to be treated. So what does that tell me. I should call back up on Monday and be a bitch, right? Nope, not me I'll just suck it up and be the one to curl up in the corner and wait for my check.

So where was I. Oh yea I got the apartment in the project and the new job as a bookkeeper in the Home Care Agency. My mother gave me some furniture, the mattress. I brought some second hand items and made a home. Rent-A-Center became my life savior. That's where the TV, the girls bunk bed and living room furniture came from. It was a two bed room apartment. The kids had the bedrooms and Mr. 23 and I had the living room.

Far Rockawy is a peninsula, border by the bay on one side and the ocean on the other. The air always tasted of salt, and there was always a cool breeze in the summer. In the winter the cool breeze was bitter cold. Traveling to and from work was almost a 2 hour journey. I would leave at 6:30 am and not arrive home until almost 7 pm. Mr. 23 would get there before me and prepare dinner for the kids. I would be tired and usually eat, shower and go to bed. I'm going to call Mr. 23 father now. Father helped them with their homework, we both attended parent/teacher night. Things were good. We had a 'normal life' for once.

Even my son who was having difficulties in second grade was doing okay. You see he was disruptive in class and the school suggest he have a psychic evaluation. He was diagnosed fine, high functioning and no problems. Here in Rockaway, just as in Jamaica, he associated himself with the wrong crowd.

When I moved back to NY he went to the neighborhood school. He was put in the first grade with children that were left back and trouble makers. These kids, also lived down the block from us. When my son who in school in Jersey was a star pupil, now he was just a statistic. I didn't know I had rights and could of pulled him from that class. All my teaching him to reading, writing and arithmetic, was all for naught, because the educational system screwed him. He had potential but he followed the crowd and wanted to hang out. I was always on his back, but he keep doing his thing.

The girls were fine. They had their room that I use to try and set up nice a girly and tell them to clean on Saturdays that took all day. While they were doing that I would be cleaning the apartment and talking on the phone with my sons' father in jail. Father never knew. I don't know why I use to talk to him. I knew he wouldn't be free for another 20 years or so.

After the apartment was cleaned I would cook and we'd play board games and watch TV as a family. Our apartment was the Kool-aid house. I would let their friends hang out so I knew where they were. They were good kids. I use to have them get together on Saturday morning and try and teach them black history, but they had enough of school during the week to sit in my classroom.

Eventually my mother gave me her car, our aunt gave her our cousins' car after he died. I loved that old dodge. Traveling became easier. Now I could shop at different stores, get home earlier, visit my mother more often. Take the kids out on the weekends, parks, movies and such.

Having a car didn't stop me from being tired and some weekends I would just lay in bed doing nothing. My hands would swell up and hurt. I couldn't use them, I would take Tylenol and the doctors would tell me it was arthritis. I use get my rashes, but that was normal. Father use to take care of me, he would cook, clean and take the kids out so I could rest. At night he would expect sex, as much as I enjoyed sex and a much as I was a freak. I was just too tired to have sex, even after resting all day.

He got frustrated and started going out and staying all night. He wasn't making any money to help with the bills and really there weren't any except the rent and phone bill. Car repairs sometimes. But like I did in Jersey City I would give him my money to try and "flip". I believed in that man more then he believed in himself. I was blind to his addiction for a long time. I know he was never with another woman, he didn't have time he was chasing drugs. A woman I would of been able to handle.

This one time he was gone for like three days. When he came home he had this bandage around his ribs and said he was in some accident and was in the hospital. We didn't have a phone so he couldn't call. I helped him take his clothes off, helped him in the shower. Feed him and tried to make him comfortable. That night in bed he start humping on me. The bastard played me again. There was nothing wrong with his ribs he was out on a binge smoking and drinking.

Just the beginning of his crack days and the symptoms of lupus surfacing.

My 2Cents Not Worth A Penny

me

About Me

We live in a world full of certifiable, psychotic and derange crazies who are all on the verge of madness. Everyone is insane except me. I am sharing my rational, balanced and lucid knowledge in an attempt to save the world of total confinement in insanity.
But this is just my 2Cents and it's not worth a penny.

An Orphan’s Hope

Defecting from today’s sadness,
with hope of realizing tomorrow’s happiness.

Polluted dreams,
diluted realities.

Childhood fantasies,
adult terror.

Confined in a vacuum of isolation,
choking on ignored emotions.

An orphan quietly dying,
from an trivial life.

10/5/08

Highway to Success

Highway to Success

On my journey of life,
I took the path to the left,
off the express highway of success.
I trotted along melting tar,
through dusty dirty roads.
Over stony trails.

There were ditches in the darkness,
in some places.
A few times I fell flat on my face,
I’d get up,
wipe the blood from my nose and keep on going.
Blinded by the sun setting in the west,
As I traveled toward the fangs,
leading to the belly of the beast.
I’d trip on stones,
fall on my ass,
rise to my feet,
rub the tenderness and keep marching ahead.

There were signs posted pointing to detours,
I easily ignored.
There were alleys I could sneak down,
but on my course I stayed.
A map was folded in my pocket,
I never checked my directions.

It was an exciting journey of life.
Climbing up hills, rolling down.
Climbing back up and rolling back down.
Seems this last time,
I’ve been going down quite a while now.

Don’t see no detours,
no more alleys to sneak down.
My map was lost a ways back.
Long ago I was on the express highway of success.
I tried hitchhiking on the big rigs of lotto,
The numbers on the license plates just passed me by.

I’ll never get back onto the express highway of success.
I have to follow this path,
forward I go,
straight ahead.
On this bumpy path I choose.

Back when I began this journey of life.
While traveling on that express highway of success,
I woulda’, coulda’, shoulda’
took a right instead of a left.

I didn’t ask for directions.
I didn’t listen when directions were offered.
I ignored the detours.
I passed the alleys.
I lost my map.

I knew where I was going.

Somewhere on this path I lost my dreams,
and found a brick wall.
Now I know, I took a dead end road to failure.

I’m looking for my map.
Hoping to see one of those alleys.
Searching for those detour signs.
And asking for directions
back to the express highway of success.

I didn’t know how to refuse.
I cheated addiction,
I cheated HIV,
I cheated homelessness.

But I couldn’t cheat fate.

Gods’ vengeance prevails
just sucked the air right from my lungs,
presented me with the gift of emphysema,
maybe,
maybe if I partied in moderation,
No, No!!
that’s just stinking thinking.

I batted my bedroom eyes,
and flirted with the devil,
I wasn’t too shy to dance,

I must pay the price,
I crave oxygen,
And sleep, oh blessed sleep.

I partied hard,
I had fun,
now it’s time to pay,
an autoimmune disease is fighting me,

and Lucifer is still tempting me.

While God watches my
freedom of choice.
9/27/08

Glass Lady (what life was living with a crack head)

I can no longer compete,
with your lady in the glass.
She's your greatest love,
she means more to you,
then me or your children.

She's your princess,
your shining star.

You'll stay up all night for her.
You'll spend every penny on her.
I'm jealous, I can't compete.
I can't send blood rushing,
through your veins,
nor can I keep your heart pumping
at such a terrific pace.

No,
I can't keep your attention,
as long as you can hold her sweetness in your lungs.

I am only a woman,
a sad, lonely woman,
with no joy,
no happiness in me.

I can offer you my tears of hurt.
To me you lie, to her you give everything.

Me you abuse,
her you worship.

Your family you allow to struggle,
to her pimp you give more than enough.

You tell me not to worry,
everything's gonna be taken care of.

This I believe,
because in time I'll be able to take care of me,
then your mistress can give you

one

final

HEART ATTACK!!!!!!!!!!

Fate Be Told By: K. Wilhelmina Floria 6/9/09

Weeping sorrows,
full of illusions and dissatisfaction.
Stimulating anxiety,
a designer disorder,
yearning sedation,
requiring rehab.
Seeking amends
for a life
unfixable.
Really too tired to care.
Hiding,
deep in the shadows.
Invisibly trying to be seen.
Now.
Was it fate
that gave me this day?
Or,
was it the life I lived
that became my fate?
Once I tried to steal joy,
sure that happiness would follow.
So said,
that time is gone.
Today,
fires of hell are trying to engulf me.
Blinding my eyes
With oozing tears of strength.
Eliminating the dark flames of hell,
to a path where heaven shines,
and warm my cold heart.